2 To Light A Candle.13 (85 page)

Redhelwar dismissed goblins with a shrug. "We have hunted goblins many times in the past. They are foolish and easily lured, when they are hungry enough. With the Shadowed Elves dead and unable to control them, they will be simple enough to kill. The duergar will present a more difficult problem. Only a Knight-Mage, it seems, can withstand their call."

"There might be a spell that would help. I'll ask Jermayan and Ancaladar. And the Crystal Spiders don't like the duergar any better than we do. They'll give us all the help they can," he added.

"Then we are well begun by honoring our promises to them. And now, perhaps, once you have settled a matter of no small interest to the army, we shall ride out to the nearer cavern and see that promise completed," Redhelwar said, rising to his feet.

KELLEN was never precisely certain exactly how the Elven destriers were organized. He did know that taking care of several thousand horses—even several thousand horses who knew their names and invariably came when called—was a large job for someone. Several hundred someones, probably, even though the Knights did much of their own horse-work.

The animals that were going to be immediately needed waited in the horse-lines, standing quietly in orderly ranks. Those that would not be needed as quickly seemed to wander at will, though Kellen was sure that was only an illusion.

He saw Idalia's Cella and Redhelwar's blood-red bay waiting patiently; Dio-nan's stone-grey mare and the thirty mounts of his own troop standing by as well, all under saddle and ready to ride out.

Ciltesse had been loitering nearby—there was really no other word, Kellen thought ruefully, to describe his second-in-command's behavior.

"I See you, Ciltesse," Redhelwar said, greeting him. "It would be pleasant to discover the nature of Kellen's new mount."

"That is yet to be known," Ciltesse said gravely. "I See you, Kellen Knight-Mage," he said formally.

"I See you, Ciltesse. It would please me greatly to be presented with the fruits of your wisdom," Kellen said, bowing.

Ciltesse led him to the end of the line of horses. Three destriers, without saddle or bridle, stood waiting.

"Here are those which I judge could best meet your needs, gathered from those which are available," Ciltesse said. "It is for you to choose, of course."

"Nor will you tell me their names, for the whole camp is betting on which one I will choose," Kellen said, smiling. He wondered if his choice would match Ciltesse's.

He turned and regarded the horses.

Two were stallions, one was a mare. They all regarded him with wary curiosity, ears flicking back and forth.

As he had when he had chosen Deyishene, he cleared his mind and regarded them through spell-sight.

The young stallion he rejected immediately. The black was a beautiful animal, young and filled with fire and spirit, but Kellen neither needed nor wanted that much eagerness in a mount.

He considered the mare next, and shook his head. She was a dark dapple grey, and had the grace and quiet spirit he wanted and needed, but she had loved her rider too deeply to be quite ready for a new master yet. He paused to stroke her neck gently. Would he have to reject them all? Maybe Jermayan would loan him Valdien for the day. Or he could take the mare—but not as a permanent battle-mount.

He turned his attention to the last of the three. The buckskin stallion was by far the oldest of the animals Ciltesse had collected, and though his coat was well-kept and without flaw, Kellen's battle-sight showed him the ghosts of old wounds, well-healed. To his surprise, Kellen could feel that he was being judged as much as he was judging. He could tell that if the destrier found his rider lacking, it had an arsenal of tricks that would put anything Valdien had ever imagined to shame. But he could also tell that the stallion was calm, steady, and smart. It would stand unafraid in the face of a pack of coldwarg—if it trusted its rider to know his business.

Now you, old warrior, I think might be what I need. Your experience just might make up for my lack of it. And I hope I'm your match in courage. Shall we show them all? Kellen wondered, looking up into the stallion's eyes. I won't be the best rider you've ever had. But I'll let you teach me everything you know.

Animal speech was one of the gifts of the Wild Magic, but like so many of the powers of a true Wildmage, it was one that Kellen lacked. Yet the stallion seemed to understand something when Kellen looked into his eyes, because he lowered his head and butted Kellen—hard—in the chest.

"This one," Kellen said, staggering back a step. Did I choose you? Or did you just choose me?

"It is as I said," Isinwen said to Ciltesse, sounding smug. "He would choose Firareth over Anganil."

Blood on the Moon

ANGANIL, KELLEN DISCOVERED, was the name of the young stallion. The mare's name was Grayn. Firareth had apparently rejected several potential riders already—though always with great courtesy, Isinwen assured Kellen.

"I thank you for bringing me to his attention," Kellen said. He wasn't sure quite yet whether he meant it or not. He offered Firareth a piece of dried apple—Ciltesse had brought them—and the stallion accepted the treat with grave politeness.

"A commander must do more than look to his mount," Isinwen said. "Ciltesse was born in Windalorianan, among the Fields of Vardirvoshan, where, it is said, one learns to ride before one learns to walk. It is indeed true that An-ganil is the finest of the available destriers, young and in his prime, while in a very few years Firareth will return to Vardirvoshan to live out his days, if Leaf and Star are with him. But he is wise, and can keep a rider safe even when such a one may be… occupied by other matters."

And what seemed like "a very few years" to the Elves might seem like a considerably longer time to a human, Kellen reflected. And—listening to what Isinwen did not say—he got the impression that Ciltesse's opinion of Kellen's horsemanship might be just a bit better than Kellen's actual skills.

"I am pleased with my choice. Leaf and Star grant that my choice is pleased with me." And that I can keep him alive.

It was a prayer that Kellen seemed to be making more and more often these days. He didn't think he could bear the heartbreak of losing another destrier so soon.

SOON they were riding out toward the nearer cavern. Kellen took the opportunity to get to know his new mount, and suspected that Firareth was taking his measure as well. Fortunately, between them Deyishene and Mindaerel had man-aged to teach him enough horsemanship for him to reassure his new mount that he did know what he was doing, and after a while he felt Firareth relax a bit.

Idalia had contented herself with saying that she was glad to see he was looking so well. Apparently nobody was going to scold him today.

On the other hand, he hadn't seen Shalkan yet, though he suspected the unicorn was following them at a comfortable—for Shalkan—distance.

When they reached the cavern, Jermayan and Ancaladar were already waiting.

"Better go tell him what you'd like," Idalia suggested.

Kellen rode forward to where the enormous black dragon crouched in the snow. He was pleased to see that Firareth approached Ancaladar calmly.

"Farneyirel would be pleased to know that Firareth has found a master who will honor him as he deserves," Jermayan said. "He has waited long to return to the field."

"I think we'll do well together," Kellen said. "Idalia said I should instruct you on how to trigger the traps."

Ancaladar snorted gustily. Firareth flicked an ear, but was otherwise unimpressed. "Say, rather, you should tell us what you have seen of them. Jermayan will do the rest," the dragon said.

"I am so instructed," Kellen said ironically, bowing where he sat. "Most of the ones I saw involved a trip-wire. I saw a lot of trip-wires that didn't seem to activate any traps I could see. In some places, there was quicksand disguised as stone—that needed no trip-wire at all. In other places, there were rods sticking out of the cave walls, and if you brushed against them, jets of—something— would spurt out of the rock, or jars of acid or poison would be broken or tilted on you. In one place, there was a jet of air flowing continuously across the passage: I don't know what would have happened if that had been interrupted. And the entire roof of the cavern village is set to collapse—it's a huge place; I don't know how they managed it. The trigger for that must be somewhere in the village, I think, but I didn't go into the village to look for it."

"A prudent child," Ancaladar commented. "So, Jermayan, let us snap the wires and smash the sticks, and see what comes of that." The dragon looked up, studying the snow-covered slope of the mountain. "And I would suggest that everyone stand well back, just to be safe."

Kellen rode back to the others.

"Ancaladar suggests we move back," he told them. "And on the whole, I think we ought to be even more cautious than he suggests."

They retreated to the edge of the little stream. By the time they turned back, Ancaladar had moved back as well, far enough from the cavern mouth so that he'd have plenty of room to launch himself into the air quickly.

Jermayan gestured. A spark of blue fire flew from his hand and vanished into the cavern mouth.

For a very long time, nothing seemed to happen at all. Then the ground beneath the horses' feet began to tremble and shake, a long low shuddering rumble that went on and on. The Elven destriers shied madly, backing into a streambed that suddenly held ice but no water, as their riders fought to steady them. Kellen could see a plume of—smoke?—dust?—steam? issuing from the cavern's mouth, as he did his best to reassure Firareth. The destrier might be tranquil and mild-mannered, but this was something wholly unexpected. But the shaking subsided fairly quickly, and the animals steadied, though they were still restless and unhappy.

The traps—there must have been a lot more of them than I saw, Kellen realized. And whatever spell Jermayan had used, it had set off every single one. The cavern mouth… well, it wasn't there anymore. The ice that had covered the rock face had fallen away in large sheets, and there were deep raw cracks in the exposed granite of the cliff face as the mountain seemed to have… settled.

I hope for their sake all the Crystal Spiders got out all right.

"Look!" Ciltesse said, pointing.

High above where the opening of the cavern had been, the snow on the mountain began to shift. It meant nothing to Kellen, who had never seen either snow or mountains before this winter. But others knew better.

"Snow-spill!" Isinwen shouted. "Ride!"

The horses needed little encouragement to run. Kellen looked back and saw Ancaladar bound into the air. The snow was halfway down the mountain face by now, spreading like a fan.

A large fan.

He could hear it now. A roaring, like a waterfall, but faint and far-off—for the moment.

How much snow was on that mountain?

Was it all coming down?

If the entire army had not come this way the day before, breaking a deep trail in the snow that even another night's snowfall had been unable to fill, they would not have been able to try to outrun it.

But "try" was all they were able to do.

The roaring now was as loud as the fury of a battle, and the wave of snow pushed wind before it. Kellen felt the rush of air at his back and braced himself even though he knew that it was the most futile of gestures—

Then he felt the spell as it was being cast, and saw two waves of snow as high as Ancaladar's shoulder pass them by on either side, racing along beside them as fast as a running horse. A few hundred yards further on, the force of the snow-spill was spent, but without Jermayan's spell it would certainly have been enough to bury them all.

The troop reined in—Kellen had been bringing up the rear—and stopped. Kellen looked back.

There was a deep sheltering "V" in the snow along their track. Beyond that, and to either side, the snow lay white and smooth—and deep. There was no sign of the cavern mouth—or even of the cliff face.

Ancaladar landed a few yards ahead. The dragon kicked up a great plume of snow with his landing, then settled deeply into the snow. Jermayan dismounted, and walked through the snow to Redhelwar. Kellen urged Firareth forward.

Jermayan bowed.

"It seems the cave was more extensively mined than anyone properly understood," Redhelwar said.

"Ancaladar expected a… small snow-spill," Jermayan admitted. "He has seen them before, when the snows have been heavy. And we thought—when I sent the wind to scour the caverns—that when the roof of the village cavern collapsed there would be some disturbance, but…"

Jermayan looked a bit shaken, and more than a little drained. Kellen was reminded, once again, that if Ancaladar's storehouse of power was infinite, Jermayan's energy was not. He wondered just how much energy it had taken to turn aside that wall of snow.

"But we are all still alive thanks to you, and the caverns are gone, and so are the traps, which is what matters," Kellen said. "And I do not think, from the way Idalia is looking at us, that either you or I will have to worry about tomorrow's battle if you do not go and rest now."

"So I have said," Ancaladar said, speaking up now. "But I am a mere dragon, so of course my Bonded would not listen to me. No. We must land, and he must assure himself twice-over that what he could see with his own eyes was indeed so, and stand here in the snow when a warm fire and a hot meal is what he truly needs."

It was amazing, really, how much Ancaladar could sound like Shalkan when he tried, though Kellen had the impression Ancaladar was reserving the worst of his lecture for when he and Jermayan were alone.

"Then let him go to them at once," Redhelwar said, speaking directly to Ancaladar.

Jermayan bowed once again, and walked back through the snow to Ancaladar.

"Men," Idalia said in disgust, coming up beside Kellen.

"Wildmages," Kellen corrected absently. "Or maybe Elven Knights. Keirasti isn't any more sensible, and she's a girl."

" 'Girl'—she's old enough to be your grandmother," Idalia said with a snort.